(3) Sarah Jane Adventures - Cold Blood: The Bigger Picture I
by lhigginns67
Summary: Regaining consciousness in the forest, Sarah Jane discovers Luke and Colin are gone, and Rani's phone is switched off. Determined to find Luke and Rani's whereabouts, Sarah Jane drives back home, when she is stopped by a man at the side of the road who can't remember his name.
1. What's My Name?

Sarah Jane groaned, as her surroundings gradually faded in. What...What had happened? Pulling herself up, she glanced around. Still in the forest, it seemed.

Oh God. Where was Luke? Or that vile man, Colin? There had been ringing of some kind - and a voice. A female voice...giving orders. Harrison - that was it. Oh God, that man - she'd shot him in both knees. And Cromley...oh. Why had...Luke - she had to find Luke, find her car.

Rani - was she all right?

Sarah Jane rummaged for her phone, and dialled.

'_The person you're calling is not available right now. Please leave a message after the tone.'_

Beep_. _

'Rani, it's Sarah Jane. Luke's gone - I don't know where. Please, just call me when you get this, all right?'

How was Colin gone if his knees had been...blown apart?

Sarah Jane shuddered. Too many questions, not enough answers.

She trekked along the forest, for what seemed like an age. Surely the exit couldn't have been far.

Oh, at last.

A road appeared up ahead - and her car.

Next stop, Bannerman Road.

The road was unusually quiet for this hour. Almost too quiet.

Oh God, where was Luke - and Rani? Were they safe? She could check with Mr Smith. Perhaps he could also help her piece together the last week. At the moment, it was just one big blur. The vague memory of Cromley standing in her bathroom, threatening to commit suicide flashed in her mind. Not far to the house now, Sarah Jane thought. She could just make out the traffic lights ahead, when a man at the side of the road approached her car, waving his arms. She pulled over and stopped, climbing out.

'Are you all-'

'What's my name?'

The short dishevelled man stared at Sarah Jane, his floppy hair framing his dirty face. His brown jacket appeared to cover a torn red shirt. He was also missing a shoe.

'I'm sorry?'

The man stood closer.

'I don't know what...I don't have much time.'

'Do you want me to take you to a police station?'

'There isn't time...no time.'

Sarah Jane needed to find Luke. And Rani. But she couldn't just leave this man.

'No time for what?'

The man stepped forward.

'You have to take me to...take me to...'

The police station wasn't far away - but that was probably the last place the man wanted to be.

'I can take you to wherever it is you have to go, if you can try to remember that.'

The man blinked.

'You're...sure?'

'Yes,' Sarah Jane said, motioning him to climb in. 'I can at least get you somewhere safe in the meantime.'

Was she sure about this? She didn't even know the man, let alone what he wanted. He could've been dangerous - or faking it. A complete stranger, and she'd just let him in. He did seem genuine enough.

Luke - she needed to worry about Luke, and whatever happened to that other man with him. She also needed to worry about the man sitting next to her, as the car started down the road.

Sarah Jane threw occasional glances at the man, as the car continued at a steady pace. Had he been attacked? Was he on the run? What if he'd been sent by Harrison - in an attempt to ruin Sarah Jane's life. It wouldn't be the first (thank you, Miss Winters) - and for what? The career path of journalism her younger self had decided to pursue all those years ago? Hitchhiker was definitely out of the question.

Oh.

Something (presumedly on the man) stank.

The man studied the cars and houses that passed by. He seemed as bewildered as Sarah Jane.

'This isn't...I don't think this is the way.'

Sarah Jane glanced at him in the corner of her eye.

'I'm taking you back to my place,' she said. 'For your own safety.'

The car slowed down as they approached a red light. Sarah Jane looked at the man.

'Look, I obviously don't know what's happened to you, but I can certainly try and help you.'

She needed to find Luke and Rani. She also needed to find out who exactly this man was, and his intentions.

The man's eyes darted.

'And you won't take me to the...police station?'

'No.'

He looked at her, hands trembling.

'What's my name?'

Sarah Jane glanced between him and the road, as the light turned green, and continued along. Perhaps he wasn't faking it after all. Too early to say at this stage, surely. Perhaps he _was_ dangerous.

'I'm sorry,' she said. 'If I knew, I would _gladly_ tell you. But...'

The man looked at his feet.

Sarah Jane needed to find Luke and Rani, but...she couldn't...she couldn't wait until she reached home to help this man. It would just...it would just have to wait.

'Change of plan.'

The man looked at Sarah Jane.

The car passed one last set of traffic lights, before turning right.

Oh God.

That man - that vile man Colin. Where was he? Or Harrison? Hopefully nowhere near Luke or Rani. A chill shot down Sarah Jane's spine.

Oh God.

As Granville walked along the path beside the long road of passing cars, he froze, seeing what he did not want to see.

Wormwood lay before him, choking on her own blood, through staggered breaths. He stared, fighting the growing urge to kneel down and hold her. Hold her prone arms. Stop the blood pouring out. He shook his head, and she disappeared. He'd let himself just watch, as Colin carried the gravely wounded woman from the office. Was he telling himself he had actually been afraid of Colin? Don't be absurd, thought Granville.

He walked a little further on, stopped and leaned against the wall, looking at the passing cars. Only now did he worry that he might see Wormwood driving one of - no. It should have been Cromley experiencing the Banquo/MacBeth visions, not this poor bastard. Or more so Colin. The sick bastard had clearly taken pleasure in making sure Wormwood had been reduced to slush in a bathtub.

Granville watched. A blue car, a red car, a..._turquoise_ car? A man - Cromley(?) - sat in the passenger seat. He couldn't quite make out the driver. Bastard, if only he had his gun on him - he could've put Cromley out of his godforsaken misery. Or, if Cromley had been standing here in Granville's place, just maybe, he would have walked into the traffic. One less miserable bugger to deal with.

Granville checked his watch. Six thirty. Dinner time. A big juicy burger, with all of the trimmings - or even a rare and raw steak, called his name. Harrison was likely doing the same, if eating was a function her race were capable of. Eating other races, perhaps. No, that's what Wormwood's race did. Harrison's controlled them. Controlled them to their death. Ah, the ever slippery, thuggish Bane. Wormwood wasn't either of those, of course. None of the others would have helped him escape from prison. Granville continued to watch the passing cars, before continuing down the footpath.

If Harrison could indulge in such a thing, let it be the last meal she would lay eyes on.


	2. Your Main Priority?

The street lights flashed on, as Sarah Jane's car continued along the road. She could feel her eyes closing. Don't fall asleep, don't fall asleep, she thought. The traffic grew lighter, along with any pedestrians or passerby's on the path. God, how long had she been driving for? She glanced at her phone. Neither Luke or Rani had called yet. Were they all right? Oh God, perhaps they _were_ in danger. She looked at the man. His head lolled to the side with no whimpering, and his hands were still. That unpleasant stink still hung in the air. She could find him some new clothes. Some clean clothes.

Oh.

She hadn't eaten all day. There must have been a shop nearby. Maybe the man would like some food too. Maybe he wanted to harm her. That's probably what Harrison wanted. Perhaps not. He _did_ seem genuine.

Another set of lights were approaching. The last, for this journey, it seemed. And the last of the petrol in her tank. It couldn't have been-

Oh, good.

At the next left, she turned into the nearest petrol station. An eerie silence yawned, as Sarah Jane began to fill her tank. She couldn't remember the last time she'd ventured at such odd hours.

As she opened her door to retrieve her purse, she moved quietly as a mouse, so as not to wake the man - if he was sleeping. Perhaps he was just resting his eyes, just testing her.

Hopefully the man liked egg and onion, Sarah Jane thought, returning with two packs of sandwiches and bottles of water.

She lifted her phone and dialled.

'_The person you are_-'

Oh God.

Where were they? They were in danger, they had to be.

She had to go back to the house. She had - no. Help this man first, or find out his intention, at least.

Oh, this was going to be a long night, indeed.

Damn. She'd conked out. Sarah Jane checked her watch. 6.30am.

She looked around at the vacant car park. The sea rippled, and the birds sang. She looked at the man. He must've been asleep all of that time, for his head was still lolled to the side. The sandwiches sat unopened.

_Ring, ring._

Sarah Jane looked at the phone screen. Perhaps it was Luke - or Rani - calling from an unknown number. Calling to say they were safe.

'Luke? Rani? Are you all right?'

'That depends,' a voice said. 'Fond of egg and onion, then, Miss Smith?'

Sarah Jane paused.

'Who is this?'

'Wilfred Parkinson. You won't have heard of me, but you're going to.'

Sarah Jane sat up.

'Christ, how did you get this number?'

'Your son gave it to me. And Rani's.'

'Are they all right?'

Silence.

'Like I said, Miss Smith,' Parkinson responded. 'It depends.'

'On?'

'Is there a man next to you?'

Great. Someone was watching her.

'Yes.'

Parkinson coughed.

'And he's your main priority?'

Long pause.

'At the moment...yes.'

Parkinson chuckled.

'Ah, okay. Nothing to worry about, then. Sorry to trouble you, Miss Smith.'

'Wait, Parkinson,' Sarah Jane bounced back. 'Where are they?'

'Safe.'

'Park-'

_Beep, beep, beep_.

Sarah Jane lowered her phone.

Oh, no.

She knew it - she _knew_ it.

Did Parkinson also know the man? Know his name, and his intentions?

She looked at the man, still sleeping.

Back to Bannerman Road, or...?

Being watched, that's just what she needed.

Oh, please, Luke - Rani, call back, Sarah Jane thought.

She-

'MARION!'

Sarah Jane jumped, as the man jolted awake, screaming.

She turned to him, holding him.

'It's all right, it's all right,' she said, in her best effort to reassure him.

The man's hands trembled, his eyes darting.

'It's okay, it's okay.'

He looked at her, shaking.

Sarah Jane released him, taking a few breaths herself.

'Is she here?'

She looked at him.

'I don't think so,' she said. 'I'm sorry, I know this'll be difficult for you, but would you be able to tell me who Marion is?'

His eyes darted.

'Is she here?'

Sarah Jane looked ahead.

Just who was Marion?

Granville studied the human customers around him. Eating their steak. Their pasta. Their cheesecake. He rubbed his gloved hands. His own pie wasn't bad at all - so much, that he could've requested seconds. The Bane would have, no doubt. He thought it may have been busier at this hour. The more to...be involved in his plan, the better. Just a matter of time, now. This plan was just the starter. The one for Harrison being the main course.

The blue decor with the yellow stripes was rather nice.

Perhaps Cromley was here. In the kitchen? In the toilet? Sitting opposite him. Blood (tomato sauce to other customers) streamed from Cromley's mouth, and his eyes were wide.

Granville rose, snatched Cromley's arm, and headed for the toilet.

He forced Cromley into the cubicle, lodging the man into the toilet. Granville aimed a minute pistol.

'This,' he smiled, approaching the man. 'is for Wormwood.'

Cromley jarred, with a hole in his throat.

Granville placed the pistol beside the toilet, and left.

One down.

He approached a server.

'Excuse me, someone's had a bit of an accident in the men's.'

The server hurried off. A scream rang out. Granville smirked.


	3. The Bigger Picture

'Is Marion here?'

Sarah Jane looked ahead as the car continued along. The man had been muttering that name for the last good while. Cars were gradually streaming in, as it turned 8am. One of them could've been Parkinson. Oh wonderful. Stalking. That's just she needed. Luke and Rani were in danger, and she couldn't do a thing about it. Great.

Sarah Jane had an idea of where to head, for both her and the man's sake - it wasn't too far away, either.

First Colin and Harrison, now Wilfred Parkinson. Attracting stalkers, having her name ruined - why, it was just part of the job, wasn't it?

'I don't know where she is. I'm sorry.'

'She...she was...at that table.'

Sarah Jane glanced at him.

'I'm sorry?'

The man sat up.

'With the woman...the woman who...had a heart attack.'

'Who did?'

The man buried his head in his arms. A red light was approaching, and the car stopped. Sarah Jane looked at him.

'Who was the woman?'

The man shook his head, still in his arms.

Sarah Jane looked ahead again.

'She was...with Marion.'

'Yes, but who was she? Can you tell me that?'

Silence.

The light turned green, and the car moved on.

Not long now to their place of...safety? Safe for them, but not for Luke or Rani. Maybe that phone would ring, and just maybe it would be either of them. Oh God, where were they? It didn't bear thinking about.

Sarah Jane held the wheel.

Woman that had a heart attack, that'd been with another called Marion? What did the man sitting next to her know? More importantly, what were his intentions? To trap her? Gain her trust by pretending to forget his name, and divert her away from Luke and Rani's whereabouts?

Sarah Jane exhaled.

She was being too paranoid.

'Toi-Toilet.'

Sarah Jane glanced at the man.

'I think there's one nearby. Hold on.'

Her eyes darted, as they passed along yet another stretch of road.

One more set of lights.

'Nearly there. Nearly there.'

Now the road was flooding with cars. Must've been the morning rush.

'Here we are. Come on.'

The car pulled up beside a medium sized building, labelled 'PUBLIC TOILETS'.

They'd go to the toilet, and then the place of safety. That was the plan.

Sarah Jane and the man headed for the entrance.

'I'll wait here, if you'll be all right?'

The man nodded meekly, and entered.

Sarah Jane looked around. Parkinson could be here. Or Colin. Or Harrison. Her phone was in the car, so if she did receive another call, that'd be another delight to return to. Wherever Luke and Rani were, Sarah Jane prayed that a...bomb wasn't involved. Or gas. She shuddered, as the memory of James Carver strapped down with sarin gas on the old Tube station flashed across her mind.

What if that man was cooking up a similar concoction in this toilet at this moment? He did seem genuine enough, though.

A figure appeared in the distance. Parkinson? Surely he wouldn't reveal himself so soon? The figure seemed to be exchanging her stare, but she couldn't be sure. The figure looked around, then back at her. Her heart pounded with unease.

Ah.

A boy ran up to the figure. Their son? The two of them hugged, and left.

Sarah Jane glanced as the man exited, and they headed for the car.

Granville lay, seeped in the carpeted floor of his home. The ever so comfortable blue carpet. Wormwood was gone...but what about Chambers, her advisor? Dead? Head crushed against a wall? Hopefully not. Cromley had paid the price. Perhaps Granville ought to down a glass of brandy or two to celebrate. Or not - wait until Harrison had suffered too. Granville smiled. What a bloody mess it was going to be. A fantastically bloody mess, indeed. Her chest saturated in blood, or her body dissolving in a tub of acid.

Perhaps if he switched on the news, Harrison would be flash up on screen. Arrested for murder. Or for conspiring to murder Wormwood. Granville scoffed. No, of course not. She'd find a way to evade the law. She and Colin. They always did.

9am. Most people would be just starting work. Sarah Jane and the man, however, had been on the road for what must've been almost a day. A day, and none the wiser of Luke and Rani's whereabouts. But wiser about the fact that they were in danger - terrible danger. Sarah Jane watched a few cars pass by.

Oh, why couldn't she prioritise both the man and Luke and Rani?

Sarah Jane sighed.

She had to see the bigger picture, she knew that. But she also acknowledged the likely anger Luke and Rani would feel at being abandoned, like Nat did with the bomb in the flat. But, there were millions of people at stake that day. Sarah Jane wasn't abandoning them - far from it.

Perhaps she should try calling them again. Perhaps-

_Beep, beep_.

Her eyes darted between the road and her phone. Luke or Rani - it had to be. But the man, he...

Sarah Jane pulled over.

She lifted her phone and looked.

New message from Rani:

'_They know._'

Sarah Jane stared. Hearing from Rani, or Luke so soon - it could be a trap. Perhaps Rani wrote it against her will. Or not at all.

Who 'knew'? Harrison? Colin? Parkinson? What did they know?

'Where's Marion?'

Sarah Jane turned to the man, who looked noticeably paler.

'I'm sorry, I know I've asked this before, but do you think you'd be able to tell me who Marion is? Or even what she looks like, maybe?'

The man eyes darted.

'I...uh...she...'

Sarah Jane nodded, encouraging him.

'She...she was with the woman who...who had a heart attack.'

Sarah Jane sighed.

Maybe she should go to a police station. Let them sort him out. She couldn't call them, because God knows who could trace her phone.

'I've just received a message,' she said, showing him the phone. 'Would you have any idea who 'they' might be?'

His eyes darted between her and the phone. Did she dare mention Harrison, Colin, or even Parkinson?The man shook his head.

Sarah Jane replaced her phone, and started the car.

Next stop: the safe place.


	4. Unusual Name, Unusal Guy

Granville recalled the day he flew into a certain woman's clutches, but narrowly made his daring escape. Well, perhaps not quite a daring escape. He wasn't one for hyperbole. An unusual experience, that was for sure.

1982\. Far from a boring year for him.

Granville sat in his car, though more as if he was a passenger, awaiting his chauffeur. Outside were a row of detached houses, of different variations of some cream colour. Explosions erupted in the distance. He smiled. Explosions of his doing. A rain drop hit the windscreen. Strange, for there were no clouds. Typical of this depressing world that the human race called home. Another explosion. Another casualty - or better yet, another death.

How could he persuade Wormwood to come to Earth? It wasn't exactly top of her list of planets to invade.

Money. This planet's money supply. Yes...that was it.

Thirteen planets taken already - why not make it an even fourteen, eh?

October. When the nights were arriving early, and not a primitive on this godforsaken rock would be suspicious. One thousand years. That's how long it had taken him to succeed. At least Granville's race accepted failure - though the duration of his association with the Bane had accustomed him to ensuring failure wasn't even a thought. Ever slightly terrifying in the early days, the thought of no second chances, but Granville strived to stay in their good books.

Wearing his favourite navy suit, he spied the movements of the street. A lonely man and his dog passed by. Or perhaps not lonely at all. Out on a stroll to return to his wife? Or partner? Still, Granville hadn't found the answer.

He could perhaps educate Wormwood in the culture of humans. The intriguing ways they do things. The rich food and beverages. The seemingly standard 9-5 job. The washing of the hair and body. Defecation. All so intriguing.

Granville exited the car. So much to do, and...an abundance of time. Eventually one of those things would involve more money than could be conceived.

Three hours later, Granville stood in a half-empty taxi depot, dressed ins shirt and jeans. He welcomed the stench of tobacco wafting about - far more pleasant than this oxygen required for humans to breathe. The ageing clerk behind the table, puffing a cigar, twiddled his pen whilst looking at the form before him. He took another drag, and motioned Granville to move forward.

'Name?'

'Darius Granville.'

'Age?'

His real age, or human one, Granville wondered briefly.

'35.'

'Licence, please.'

Granville produced a card, and slid it across.

The clerk took another drag, then scrawled on the form, returning the license. Were all - or most - clerks this gruff?

'Unusual name.'

Granville smirked.

'I could've been named Tosker,' he quipped. 'Then I _would_ be unusual.'

The clerk looked at the form.

'Medical history?'

'None.'

'Willing to work nights and overtime?'

'Of course.'

The clerk took another drag.

'What about public holidays?'

'Sure.'

'Any days you can't work?'

'Nope.'

Rather a lot of questions, for what was perceived in human culture, to be an easy job. Granville understood another perceived notion of the human race was that people disliked, or even hated their jobs. Did other taxi drivers hate theirs? Of course, Granville wouldn't simply be _just_ a taxi driver. Because then, he _would_ hate his job - which he hadn't even started yet.

From the warmth of his car, Granville gazed upon the pitch black sky. A ginger cat graced along the road - straying far away from its home or owner? He looked at where the car radio was. Two minutes, just two more minutes. The cat had vanished. So had anyone else that may have occupied the street throughout the night. His first shift had been easy. No one giving him a run for his money. The last customer...an utter clown who'd been terribly inefficient in his speech. A tourist? A foreigner? Babbling away with no sense of direction. Or what about the tart with the lisp? Her brain programmed only for inconsequential gossip, barking - no, chirping in his ear, about another tart sleeping with the milkman? Was this the level of pathetic humans could truly reach? He understood now why this godforsaken planet hadn't been on Wormwood's agenda for invasion. The foul stench of human stupidity, oh how it reeked.

What if this race were to live in fear? Granville smiled at the thought. Fear - ever better than hope. This pathetic, disgusting, primitive species didn't deserve even the mere prospect of hope.

A streetlight flickered out.

_Beep, beep_.

Granville looked at the radio, and pressed a button.

'Granville?'

'Wormwood.'

'What is this plan, then?'

'Conquest off the table?'

Pause.

'For earth, yes.'

'What about robbery?'

'What about it?'

'Money makes people powerful,' Granville said. 'In your case, powerful enough for conquest.'

'I didn't call you from three galaxies away for this.'

'You crave power, Wormwood. A planet as primitive as this, _how_ can you say no?'

No response. Wormwood must've been contemplating this ever so generous offer.

'Perhaps I could persuade-'

'No,' Granville said. 'Just you. No other Bane.'

Silence. Considering the offer again, it seemed.

'Earth...crushed to stardust beneath me,' Wormwood said, Granville almost sensing her smile on the other end. 'Beneath us?'

Granville shook his head.

'No. This is for you. And only you, Wormwood.'

Friday was proving to be the hectic, excitable day that humans hyped it up to be. A cacophony of more tarts, do-gooders, pricks, inebriated slackers, and...tarts, congested his taxi. Only sporadically relieved by that pleasant smell of tobacco, and the odd generous tip, usually from people in suits. Businessmen - rich businessmen? Or the humans who didn't take first-class service for granted, spewing out more 'thank you's than necessary? When the meaning became nothing more then a hollow shell.

On occasion, Granville worked off the meter. Customers seemed to trust his ever _charming_ nature enough to not question it. Of course, he saw no purpose with the extra paper and iron earned each day. Wormwood could handle that. Terry and Del, as well.

Granville checked the time. 9pm. Another shift almost complete. He switched off the radio, and reset the meter. Perhaps he ought to check in with Terry and Del, who were also nearing the end of their shifts. Had their day been bland, exciting, or whatever other experiences or emotions humans endured?

Knock, knock.

Granville turned to see a woman by the passenger door. Bony-faced, with a mass of curly black ties back hair, wearing a tartan suit.

'My shift's just finishing.'

The woman moved to the back passenger door, then climbed in.

'I said-'

'I don't...want a ride, Mr Granville.'

Granville froze. An unusual feeling of...unease overcame him. Unease - a _human_ feeling, around a _tart_? Oh, come off it.

'I've heard...good things about you,' her soft-as-cotton voice continued. 'Your...assassination skills. I'd like you...to help me.'

'Assassinate who?'

'Not...assassinate. Help...bring her to me. Alive.'

'Who?'

The woman cleared her throat.

'Wormwood.'

Granville shook his head.

'No. Because then what? You kill her?'

Was this woman having a laugh? How audacious that this tart enter _his_ taxi on her own accord with such a request.

'You could pay me all the money in the universe, but I still wouldn't.'

'What about...Terry or Del? Would they?'

Silence.

'I have to say,' Granville said. 'This is a little bit like that part of human culture, known as film. I refuse your offer, and you threaten to attack, or worse, kill me. Or have someone do it for you.'

Pause.

'There is...someone...trying to kill Wormwood. I'd like you...to take them down.'

Ah. That made sense. Perfect sense.

'I will...provide a short profile of them...in due course.'

'Why not now?'

'The robbery,' the woman responded. 'Do that first. I will...be in touch after.'

The woman exited the car. Granville sat, thinking. Who could want Wormwood dead?


	5. Safe Haven?

Grey clouds settled, and the moon began to shine bright, as Sarah Jane drove into the night. Not a peep from the man beside her, as he slept. The unidentified stench still lingered. The safe place, hopefully was almost within reach.

'_They know._'

Parkinson - it had to be. Telling her that Harrison and Colin knew something. But what?

Sarah Jane yawned. Almost a day's worth of driving and no sleep. Exhaustion gripped tight, but paranoia gripped tighter. Another call or text could be imminent. Sarah Jane shuddered at the thought.

The safe place. How Sarah Jane wished it could have been her house. But past times proved otherwise. Besides, she couldn't just let a stranger into the attic. A stranger who might be dangerous, in an attic of alien artefacts? No chance. If your own home was no longer a safe haven, then what? In the past, trust had often gotten the better of Sarah Jane, which was usually thwarted by betrayal.

The man did seem genuine. No tricks, as of yet. Maybe at the end of all of this, if he was the real deal and remembered his name, she could take him home for a nice hot bath. This 'Marion' that seemed to be of his concern, who was she? Relative? Friend? Sarah Jane suspected it would be quite some time before she'd find out.

One last - and definitely _the_ last set of lights passed. Two more minutes, and they'd be there.

The bigger picture - yes, she knew she had to see it, but not knowing Luke and Rani's whereabouts was beyond terrifying. To choose between them and this man, she couldn't. Even to choose between Luke or Rani was...impossible. She'd have to, knowing her luck. She wanted to tear up just thinking about it.

The safe place. She had to improvise. For there was no real safe place. Somewhere warm, perhaps. The car stopped. She looked at the man, who shivered. His skin had grown ghostly pale. Somewhere warm, indeed. Her mind waged a war. Did she take the risk, and return to Bannerman Road? A nearby petrol station? If she chose Bannerman Road, how much be at stake for Luke and Rani? But how long would this man survive, if she deprived him of warmth? For now, it seemed that the man was her main priority.

She exhaled.

'I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry,' she sniffled, almost shedding a tear.

Back to Bannerman Road, it was.

As the car came up Bannerman Road, Sarah Jane glanced around. Never more did she feel like an unwanted guest at a party. As number 13 gradually came into view, the car slowed down. Just turn around now, she thought. She would regret this. Giving the man warmth, but also endangering his, Luke's, Rani's, and her own life. But she couldn't let the man deteriorate any further.

The man sat up. His eyes darted. The car gradually pulled into the driveway, and stopped.

'We're here.'

She said it as though she didn't believe it herself.

'Is this...your house?' the man said, almost inaudible.

Sarah Jane nodded.

'It'll give you some warmth. You definitely need it.'

He glanced at the house.

'Marion.'

Sarah Jane looked at him. That name again.

'We'll get inside, and then perhaps you can try to tell me who she is. All right?'

No response.

She looked at the house, then unlocked the doors.

'Come on.'

She opened her door, and climbed out.

'Just through here,' Sarah Jane said leading the way to the living room. As they entered, the man glanced around. Think it was about time those clothes came off, Sarah Jane thought wrinkling her nose at the ever present stench.

'Before you sit down,' she said, turning to the man. 'How about a change of clothes?'

The man looked meekly at her. He nodded.

Dare she mention that she had a son, or any kind of relative, for that matter? Her home - the one place she should've felt safe, but instead like a prison. Every step she took was a mistake. Every guilty step. She approached the fireplace, switching it on.

'Just, uh...stand by there, while I get some clothes. I won't be long,' Sarah Jane said, heading for the door.

The man looked at her, and did so.

Each step up the stairs was a step closer to endangering Luke and Rani's lives - to convincing them that she didn't care about them. Parkinson was likely watching from somewhere, planning his next call or text.

As she opened Luke's wardrobe, she stopped. What if they weren't in danger? What if they...were...dead? Dead because she chose a complete stranger over those she knew? She shut her eyes, fighting back a tear. Taking the first garments she saw, she placed them over her arm, and exhaled. One of Luke's shirts and pair of trousers. That maybe he would never wear again.

As she headed down the stairs, Sarah Jane looked at the front door. It may have been locked, but at the moment, it felt like only a front door. Sarah Jane entered to find the man in the exact position as when she left him. Perhaps he had - no, paranoia was dominating her better judgement.

'Here,' she said, setting the clothes on the sofa. 'I'll help you get changed, all right?'

The man's eyes darted. He nodded.

She began to unbutton from the top of the shirt. As she removed the shirt, the patches of dirt stamped around his body finally answered the stench question.

'How about a bath?'

He glanced at Sarah Jane.

'I think you'll need it.'

If there was one good thing she could do, without letting her guilt win.

'Just climb in slowly, that's it,' Sarah Jane said, guiding the man into the tub brimming with bubbles and suds.

As she began to scrub him with a brush and soap, he glanced at the tub and water, trembling.

'It's all right, you don't need to be scared.'

Try telling that to yourself, she thought.

'Drowned.'

Sarah Jane stopped.

'What?'

'Drowned. She drowned.'

'Who did?'

The trembling continued.

'Marion.'

Was he...remembering?

'Can you tell me about her?'

The man's eyes darted.

'She-She drowned. Drowned in a tub.'

'Could you tell me who she was? Her relation to you - or even what she looked like?'

He shook his head.

Oh great. Causing the man to relive a trauma. The one time she wanted not to feel guilty about helping a stranger.

What if it was a lie? All part of his trap? No. He had to be telling the truth, he had to. The scrubbing resumed. Maybe Marion had been his sister. His friend? A relative at the least.

'The other woman...who had a heart attack. Marion couldn't cope.'

'What about you? What did you do?'

Pause.

'Had...Had to get away.'

'Did you tell anyone else about it?'

Silence.

'Drowned. She drowned.'

Sarah Jane sighed. This man had to be telling the truth.

Sleep simply wasn't an option - not for Sarah Jane, anyway. The next best thing she ought to do was make some food, even at this late hour. Only some of the man's colour had been restored, as he lay asleep on the sofa, in Luke's clothes. Hunger clawed at her, but it seemed she had little appetite, nibbling on a ham sandwich. Every nibble tasted of guilt. She - and the man - had food, but Luke and Rani most likely didn't. Probably didn't have warmth either, and here she was doing nothing about it.

Sarah Jane did nothing to help Nat when she was trapped with that bomb in the flat either, all that time ago. Nat had felt betrayed, she understood that now. Miss Winters had certainly done a good job of ruining Sarah Jane's name then. Was the man on her sofa in liaison with Harrison? Was he being paid to do all of this, like Harris by Miss Winters?

Sarah Jane disposed of the remaining sandwich, washed up, and returned to the living room.

Perhaps she should've tried to catch an hour or two of sleep herself. Something she could do, that Luke or Rani probably couldn't.

She'd already lost a friend, and almost another because of an impossible decision.

'_Good friends are hard to replace.'_

How right Claudia Coster was, and would be, if Luke and Rani's whereabouts continued to remain unknown. Sarah Jane lay across the other sofa. How she wished she could just 'sleep on it'.


	6. Ring, Ring

Sarah Jane jolted awake. God, she had actually slept. What time was it? She glanced at the window. Judging by the dark outside, probably the middle of the night. Sarah Jane looked at the man. Still sleeping like a log. Maybe he'd be up for a bit more talking, in a while. Sarah Jane checked her watch. 5.45am. She'd just slept a few hours, but Luke and Rani wouldn't have. Wouldn't have had a place to eat, to stay warm, or even to be safe.

Oh.

Gita and Haresh. They'd be worried sick. Rani was missing, and it was all Sarah Jane's fault. If she had never let Rani in on her life, taken that chance like she had with Maria, Rani would still be here. Alive and well. Fulfilling her ambition to become a journalist. Just like Sarah Jane.

'_Nothing will ever be the same again.'_

A painful truth. More so now than ever.

Luke. The one good thing Sarah Jane could take away from an attempted invasion of Earth - from meeting possibly her biggest nemesis, Mrs Wormwood, was Luke. He'd given her a lease of life. Made her reconsider the mostly uneventful life she'd led, since departing with The Doctor.

Luke and Rani meant as much to her, as what Nat and Josh had, particularly during the attempted sarin gas attack on the Tube. Having to choose the impossible. She knew Josh and Nat's circumstances - their locations - during the attack. Luke and Rani's, she didn't. If Harrison and Colin were trying to get at her, why? A similar reason to Miss Winters and Harris?

Sarah Jane sat up. The man remained asleep. His colour had improved, but the paleness lingered. She may have slept, but she couldn't bring herself to eat, knowing she could eat, and Luke and Rani couldn't. Maybe the man would want some food, when he woke up. He had to be telling the truth. Yes, he could've been, but Sarah Jane didn't think he was. He couldn't even remember his own name, so why might he lie about such a traumatic event? It sounded like Marion could've been his sister. It seemed like _that _kind of traumatised. The man found her and ran off, because he couldn't deal with it? In the face of tragedy, irrationality was a common occurrence. The poor man. Considering all of this, in hindsight, a police station wouldn't have been a good idea. Sure, Sarah Jane had her share of suspicion about the man, but it wouldn't been half as much as the police. They might've thrown him in a cell for the night, not helped him.

Sarah Jane reached for her phone, and looked. No new messages or calls. She almost sighed with relief. On one hand, no daunting correspondence from Parkinson. On the other, she continued to be kept in the dark and Luke and Rani.

A hour later, the man awoke, sitting up.

'All right?'

He looked at her, seeming more relaxed.

'Yeah.'

Sarah Jane smiled.

'Would you like something to eat?'

The man nodded. Sarah Jane rose and exited to the kitchen. A few minutes later, she returned with some toast on a plate.

'You slept all right, then?'

The man nodded.

'When you've finished, do you think you might be able to tell me more about Marion? This woman you're so concerned about?'

The man froze.

'Harry.'

Sarah Jane stared at him.

'What?'

'That's my name. Harry.'

Oh.

'I used to have a friend with that name,' Sarah Jane replied.

She didn't know whether to be happy that he had at last remembered his name, or that his name was that name.

Harry glanced at her.

'You'll, uh, not forget it in a hurry, then.'

He reached for a slice of toast, paused, then bit into it.

'How are you feeling this morning?'

Harry stopped.

'I don't know,' he replied, the toast held in mid air. 'Marion.'

'Was she your sister?'

He looked at Sarah Jane, shaking his head.

Maybe not a relative at all, then.

'Friend. Since we were both eight years old.'

'And you said she drowned herself, remind me why?'

Harry glanced around, replacing the piece of toast.

'Her friend's heart attack. At only 31.'

'The woman in the office, I think you said?'

He nodded.

'In her note, Marion...said she wished it was an acid bath. I couldn't...'

Oh, God. Oh, this poor, poor man. He was _definitely_ the real deal.

'I'm sorry,' Sarah Jane said, every bit of sympathy and reassurance overshadowing any previous suspicion or uncertainty. 'Oh, I'm so sorry, Harry.'

She reached out and put her arms around him. Harry looked a little baffled, but allowed it.

She eventually released him.

'I've...got a son and friend, who are both missing,' she said, looking away.

Harry looked at her.

'Do you think they're...dead?'

'Oh, that really doesn't bear thinking about.'

'I'm sorry.'

Sarah Jane looked at him.

'Oh, don't be,' she said. 'You've lost someone close, someone that meant a lot to you. It's a horrible feeling.'

Harry never once looked away.

'I suppose I'm still a stranger to you, aren't I? I'm sorry for just coming up to you like I did. I had no right.'

Sarah Jane sat forward.

'_I'm_ sorry,' she said. 'I shouldn't have been so suspicious about you. It's just, when you've endured the sort of things I have, you don't trust easily.'

Harry nodded. He seemed to be able to confide in her, so perhaps Sarah Jane could do the same with him. Someone that shared her old friend's name, perhaps that was why she trusted him. Sarah Jane smiled.

'The other Harry, he used to call me 'old girl'. Bit of an old-fashioned man.'

'Really?'

Sarah Jane nodded.

'A doctor, as well,' she continued. 'But he's been missing too, for a long time.'

Harry nodded.

'What about you, Harry, do you have any family?'

'No,' Harry replied, shaking his head. 'Both of my parents died when I was little. My uncle looked after me.'

Sarah Jane leaned back.

'Same as me, only it was my aunt. My aunt Lavinia.'

Harry looked at the floor.

'Marion may as well have been my sister.'

It was quiet, almost inaudible.

'We even bickered like siblings.'

He smiled briefly, but Sarah Jane could see the emptiness; the sadness.

'Do you want a drink of water?' she said, eyeing the uneaten toast.

Harry nodded.

Sarah Jane took the plate, and headed into the kitchen.

Perhaps she _had_ found a friend again. He had to be kept out of harm's way, though. Sarah Jane disposed of the toast, washed the plate, then poured a glass of water. A friend who she could maybe introduce to Luke and Rani - if they were ever found. If they were alive. Harry appeared to have looked healthy, she'd noticed, when they were talking. Calmer, too. If she could make him feel at ease, it was the one good she could do. Why had she allowed her suspicion to dominate her? Harry clearly meant no harm. Sarah Jane lifted the glass and re-entered the living room. She handed Harry the glass, who flashed a smile, and sat down. He took a small sip.

'Did you...have a job before all of this, Harry?'

He nodded.

'Standard 9-5 office job,' he replied, taking another sip. 'Nothing exciting. What about you?'

'I'm a journalist. It's quite the experience, at times.'

'Did you always want to do that?'

Sarah Jane paused.

'I suppose so, yes,' she said brightly. 'My friend Harry was a doctor. A great one, at that.'

Harry took another sip.

_Ring, ring. _

She lifted her phone and glanced between it and Harry. Rani's name again.

'Probably Parkinson.'

_Ring, ring_.

Harry's eyes darted. Sarah Jane stared at it.

_Ring, ring_.

She paused, then answered.

'Enjoy your nap, Miss Smith?'

'What do _they_ know, Parkinson?'

'Who?'

'Oh, like I have to tell you.'

Parkinson chuckled.

Sarah Jane's face was set.

'They know - you know, as well - where Luke and Rani are, don't you?'

'I told you, Miss Smith,' Parkinson said, with a little more assurance than Sarah Jane liked. 'They're perfectly safe. Can't let the bad ones win, now, can we?'

'If you think for-'

'Good to see that Harry is settling in nicely. Like Luke and Rani.'

'Parkinson, just-'

_Beep, beep, beep_.

Sarah Jane heaved out a sigh. She looked at Harry. The paleness had resurfaced. Oh God, Luke and Rani.

'He isn't fooling anyone. God, they're just...'

Harry looked at his feet.

Luke and Rani were missing, possibly dead, and here was Sarah Jane still doing nothing about it.

If she-

_Ring, ring._

Sarah Jane looked at the screen. Luke?. Perhaps it actually was Luke.

'Hello?'

'Mum? Mum, is that you?'

Oh, how she thought she may never have heard that voice again.

'Luke? Oh God, Luke, where are you?'

Sarah Jane didn't know whether there was more distress in her voice or Luke's.

'Mum, I don't...I don't know where Rani is. I can't...'

'Where are you, Luke?'

'It...It looks like...looks like a lab of some kind. Mum, I don't have-'

_Beep, beep, beep._

'Luke? Luke!'

Sarah Jane lowered the phone, bending over. 'He's alive,' she said, close to tears. 'Oh God, he's alive.'

But Rani, where was she?

A lab? The only one she knew off hand was...the Pharos Institute. But what if it was a trap? What if Luke was saying that against his will? But it had to be true. It had to.

'We have to go to the Pharos Institute,' she proclaimed, looking at Harry.

'I'm not leaving you behind, that's for sure.

She could endanger Harry more in bringing him along, but she just _couldn't_ leave him here, she couldn't.

Oh God, Luke. What had they done to him? And where was Rani?

Sarah Jane shuddered. Too many questions. Not enough answers.


	7. Moment of Truth

Sarah Jane's car pulled into the car park of the Pharos Institute. Only a few other cars were about. This had to be a trap. It had to be. Oh God, what will they have done to Luke? To Rani? Enough for it to be too late for Sarah Jane to apologise to them? What was awaiting her - and Harry - inside? Harrison and Colin, themselves, probably. Perhaps Luke _had_ said what he had against his will. If Rani was here too, Sarah Jane wouldn't even know where to begin in explaining to Gita and Haresh. Not one bit.

Did Harrison have something waiting for Harry too? Harry, the man who Sarah Jane had chosen over Luke and Rani. Who she could be placing in further danger. But she couldn't leave this poor man behind. She just couldn't.

Sarah Jane and Harry approached the building's huge front doors. Sarah Jane buzzed the intercom.

'_Pharos Institute,' _a gruff female voice said_. 'State your name and the purpose of your visit_, _please_.'

'Sarah Jane Smith, and Harry. Here to see Harrison. A Miss Harrison, I think.'

Pause.

Sarah Jane glanced at Harry.

'_Ah, yes_. _Come on through_.'

A short beep sounded. Sarah Jane pushed open the door, and they entered.

Ah.

A low light shone in the corridor, and the labs were noticeably quiet. No security, either. It _was_ a trap.

_Beep, beep. _

Sarah Jane rummaged for her phone.

Luke.

'_The end room on the right - head there_.'

She exhaled, glancing at Harry. This was it, the moment of truth.

Sarah Jane wanted to hurry, but each step of dread towards their destination simply hindered that.

Oh, Luke. Please just...oh, God.

At last, the room was upon them. An...office? Specifically, Professor Rivers' office. Sarah Jane pushed open the door, and the two of them entered.

She and Harry stood together just before the door.

A bony-faced woman in a tartan suit sat at a desk before them. This must have been Harrison. No Colin?

'What a...pleasure to finally...meet you...in the flesh, Miss Smith.'

Her soft-as-cotton voice slightly unnerved Sarah Jane.

'All is...well?'

How dare she? How dare...

'Where is my son?'

Silence.

'What have you done to him?'

'Have a...seat, Miss Smith.'

Sarah Jane stared at Harrison. What was with the niceties?

'My friend Harry. What about him?'

'What friend?'

Sarah Jane looked beside her. Harry was gone.

No. No, no, it couldn't have been.

'Never...quite...out of our control, Miss Smith.'

Sarah Jane had confided in...no one. Those little details - no parents, the name, it should've clicked.

In the presence of Harrison, Sarah Jane tried her best poker face.

'Luke and Rani, where are they? What have you done to them?'

Harrison said nothing.

'Parkinson, where's he?'

'Right here.'

Sarah Jane turned. Colin stood before her, holding a small rectangular device to his big smirk. No. No, how could it be? All this...how could it be?

'I don't...I don't know where Rani is,' Colin taunted, but in Luke's voice.

With all of her might, Sarah Jane fought back tears. _Sick_. They were _sick_.

'Where are Luke and Rani?'

Harrison leaned back.

'How much did...Wormwood...matter to you?'

'Wormwood?' Sarah Jane asked.

'What did she have to do with this?'

Colin scoffed.

'Considering...she was your...nemesis,' Harrison continued. 'Did she...matter as much to you...as your son, or Rani?'

Pause.

'To some extent, I suppose.'

Where was Harrison going with this?

Harrison folded her arms.

'Not as much as...Darius Granville, it seemed. He thought...the world of her. But...we couldn't have that.'

'And how serendipitous that we also happen to hate megalomaniacs,' Colin trilled.

Sarah Jane didn't take her eyes off Harrison.

'What gave you that right?'

For a moment, Harrison studied her.

'You would...say the same to Wormwood...if it was her who had taken a life...would you not?'

Sarah Jane's eyes darted. Harrison wasn't wrong.

'Think of the...suffering Wormwood would've brought...upon your world, Miss Smith. An...entire population dead. Surely...that is worse...than a single loss of life?'

'Any killing is wrong, no matter who or what. It doesn't belong in this world, or _any_ world.'

Harrison put her hands together.

'Know what we did to her?' Colin chirped.

Sarah Jane turned to him. That sounded so eerily like Wormwood herself.

'Well...' Colin began ever so casually, smirking. 'I fancied a game of Operation, which...well, the other 3 quarters of her brain probably felt a bit lonely afterwards.'

Why was he telling...

Oh, no. No. Luke. Rani. No.

'She wanted power,' Colin continued. 'We gave it to her - what more could she ask for?'

Sarah Jane couldn't speak.

'Oh, I know. A lovely big bath in acid.'

His delight, his...glee, she just couldn't...

'What gave you that right?'

Colin frowned.

'Shame your parents didn't live long enough to teach you gratitude,' he smiled.

Sarah Jane could not speak. What else did Harrison and Colin know about her? Did they know about her time with the Doctor? Probably.

Harrison looked between Sarah Jane and Colin, and leaned forward, looking at Sarah Jane.

'Okay,' said Sarah Jane, turning to Harrison. 'You had a vendetta towards Wormwood, I get all that. But, why me?'

'Your son...Miss Smith. The link between Wormwood and her...biggest nemesis.'

'But why make her...make her brain-dead?'

Colin walked over beside Harrison's desk.

'_Partially_ brain dead,' he reminded her. 'Well, why allow, what was merely her failed experiment in the first place, to distract her from what she really cared about...hm?'

Sarah Jane could almost feel her stomach turning. This was just...just...

'A child,' she said, with all the disgust she could muster. 'You used a child. You...

Tears were threatening to take hold.

Harrison and Colin remained unmoved.

'Please, where are my son and Rani?' Where are they?'

Harrison cleared her throat.

'Is his...name...not of importance to you, Miss Smith?'

Oh please, just stop it, Sarah Jane thought.

'Luke. Luke, Rani - where are they? Please?'

Again, Harrison cleared her throat.

'Your house. Go there.'

Sarah Jane stared at Harrison.

'It...wasn't a lie, Miss Smith. They..._are_ safe.'

'I don't believe you.'

'Drive there...now.'

'I don't-'

'Or they won't be,' Colin piped up.

Sarah Jane looked back and forth between them? This had to be a trap. It had to be.

Sarah Jane's car couldn't hurry along the road any faster. It had to be a trap. But maybe this time, Luke and Rani _were _safe_._

Oh, Harry.

The one time she made friends with - confided in - another adult, and it had never been. The one time.

Each set of lights seemed never-ending. Every car seemed to be in slow motion. Sarah Jane prayed - hoped - Luke was there at the house. Rani too. But she could only hope.

Eventually, the car pulled into number 13. Sarah Jane climbed, hurrying to the front door, and opened it.

'Mum?'

'Oh, Luke!'

Sarah Jane ran to him, and wrapped her arms around him. The boy she thought she may never see again, here where he belonged. She held him tight, savouring every second of this precious moment. Eventually, she released him, and sniffed.

'Are you all right?'

He nodded.

'Yeah.'

Sarah Jane hoped she could believe him. He did seem to look all right.

'Is Rani-'

'Mum,' he said, his expression changing, looking how Sarah Jane had for the last while. 'I think you should see this.'

He lead her into the living room to the TV.

'_...year old Rani Chandra has been missing for two days_. _Her family say this isn't typical behaviour for her. Police are appealing for information on her whereabouts_.'

Oh, no. No. Those...those...

Sarah Jane stared at the screen.

Oh God, Rani.

**To Be Continued...**


End file.
